PNewL PNewS Vol 31. Issue 2: A Wild Wild World

 

PNewL PNewS 

Volume 31 Issue 2          “All the pnews that phits.”            June 2023 _____________________________________________________________

A Wild Wild World

This has been the craziest season for wildlife interaction. I am beginning to wonder what is next. Let’s see--where did it start? I think it might have been a turtle—a box turtle or a snapping turtle? Can’t remember. Buster barked and I walked him away. Then there was the snake in the driveway who was all squiggly (fear reaction)—may or may not be the Snake Now Known as Ursula.

        Then there was the bear Buster found in the gully across the road. She had been seen with two babies. Buster had a long loud discussion with her—she snorted and stomped around in the water. It felt quite real. I called Jeff on the phone and asked what he would do if he were me. He said he'd be right there. He used his Big Boy voice and Buster left the bear in peace. (Helpful information: Buster does not listen to me. While Jeff’s voice is authoritative, mine is the end of fun.)

     There was the baby deer found after the tractor mowing (enough info). And then there were the two bear moms + two cubs each on the Parkway. And finally… no, not finally, but lastly for now, the Snake Now Known as Ursula. I heard noises in the garage and went out to find shelves cleared and things broken. Then when I got in the car and threw stuff on the passenger seat, I noticed her on the dashboard, directly in front of me. I ejected myself out of the car, leaving the driver’s side door open and screamed at her from the passenger side: I HAVE TO GO—YOU NEED TO LEAVE. She slithered out. I drove away.

     Later, I heard her in the ceiling above the front porch while in a zoom class, then in the crawlspace above the kitchen. I have a video of Buster barking at the ceiling. Yes, sweetie, it’s confusing. Today, I went out in the morning and didn’t see it but at noon noticed a very long fresh snake skin in the bush along the sidewalk so I am thinking Ursula is still in residence.

     Recent addition: I took Buster and his neighbor buddy Everly for a walk which ended in a challenging interaction with a deer and maybe a baby. I had never heard a deer in distress or seen a deer attack—or attempt to attack--a dog. I’m feeling like this is going to be a long summer.

 

Three Boxes a Day—or Not

I was having a conversation with yet another of my people of a certain age (mine or usually older) about the amount of stuff we have that we don’t want to leave behind for someone else to deal with or just the amount of stuff in general or we want to move but not all the stuff. With all my remarkable intelligence (not), I boldly said, go through three boxes a day. (This person has a lot of boxes—I was trying to say do something manageable…and keep doing it… but I sounded so confident about three boxes. I am full of it.)

      When I got home, I looked around and I thought, I am full of it. I couldn’t get myself to go through three boxes. I could maybe get to a pile or a drawer, but every day? I am an arrogant all-knowing goofball. It’s official.

 

“There it was again—adults and their on and off again relationship with the truth.”

Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus

 

Just a Teeny Bit about Travel

     (See comment below. Sorry, I just can’t resist. I’ll try not to bore you!) I went to Iceland again and it was as wonderful as it was the first time, only different. The writing workshop was friendly and helpful and entertaining and all the right things with people I have known for many years. And then I flew to Akureyri in the north and drove around for several days on my own. Just writing that made me feel all warm and fuzzy. It is a magical country. While most of the people live in the south—I’ve heard 300,000 of the 380,000-ish residents live in the south—the north is sparsely populated and there’s a lot of wide-open spaces up there. In one town, I was directed to what turned out to be a hardware/garden and office supply/craft store (and more) to buy yarn. There just aren’t enough customers to warrant having a bunch of separate stores! (In another town, there was a Hardware/Liquor Store.)       

     And I got my fill…well almost…of puffins! I went to the end of the road at the northeastern edge of the country and there they were, flying around like drunken sailors, smashing into the ground and the water. They have very few things they have to do—flying is one of them—why haven’t they gotten better at it?? They nest on a rocky and grassy promontory beyond the town in Borgarfjörður Eystri. They say there are 100 people living there and 1000 elves plus in the spring and summer thousands of puffins. Lovely! (And I learned that in the off season, their beaks are grey. They are not trying to impress their mates! Fortunately, much of that time, they are at sea.)

      Other highlights were hot water places. Most people know about the Blue Lagoon, but there are now places all over the country where going out for a soak in a large artfully crafted pool filled with geothermal hot water—some more elaborate than others—is a sociable thing to do. I highly recommend the one outside Husavik. The views are breathtaking.

     No problem with snow this year but the fog on the way to the airport was pretty intimidating. I had not allowed a lot of time for making my pokey way that morning but as it often does, it all worked out. Lucky me.

     And then Buster and I did another road trip—this time to the Northeast. We stayed in a couple state parks—one in Delaware because I am trying to sleep in all the states and that’s one I haven’t been to before, took a ferry to New Jersey, and then landed in the driveway of David and Kim’s houses and Laurie’s house and Kim and Toby’s house. I had overbooked the time so I had to do some trimming but all in all it was a most excellent time with good visits and new scenery.

     Next up (that’s just a phrase, I have other things coming up sooner but this is now high on the list), I want to visit the State Parks of North Carolina. I am such a fan of these facilities, it’s time to check out the ones close to home.

 

“It’s not your imagination: most people are awful.”

Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus

 

Things I am Learning & Miscellaneous Observations 

• It has been brought to my attention that I may not be disciplined enough to be a writer. I was also told I talk about travel a lot (too much?). And lastly, I was also told that I need to remember it’s not all about me, that I am a minor character in other people’s dramas. All interesting feedback. Anyone else?

• I am the Queen of Bad Email Management. My worst habit is reading something, nodding, saying Okay by me but never responding so the person who asked the question or made the suggestion never knows what I am thinking. Apparently knowing I do this has not improved anything.

• I was listening to NPR the other day and they interviewed the mystery writer Dennis Lehane. He has started working on a television project which suits him better and he’s not sure if he will write another novel. He said his most recent book “needed to come out of me which is how you become a writer in the first place.” I feel a little bit like this pnewsletter needs to come out of me and maybe that’s why it comes to you on a varied schedule. While I don’t seem to have the discipline to be a real writer (see above), I think I will just keep faking it.

• Cathy and I went to hear Barbara Kingsolver talk about knitting. It was an odd evening. Turns out it was the closing night of a weekend knitting “camp.” I felt like I had arrived late to a very friendly party so I didn’t know the in jokes and hadn’t made friends. Everything Kingsolver said was greeted with knowing laughs and applause. It was kinda fun and kinda tedious. She said this was much more fun than a book tour because she really wasn’t selling anything and she was hanging out with knitters. She also said she’s had several (5?) operations on her hand and can no longer hold a pen so she can’t sign books, but she can still type. She doesn’t want to think about a next surgery as she figures that will be the one when she will no longer be able to knit.

• There just may be a sesame seed shortage. I went to my usual spot to buy sesame sticks and there were none to be found. Then I went to another place—nada. (I think there were a few more stores in there.) Then I googled it and learned that a lot of sesame seeds come from India and due to climate change, flooding has damaged crops and many of the seeds have been defective (!?!). It made me think of the fragility of our environment and the potential for loss when something we probably don’t think a lot about comes from one place. Harkens back to the discussions of supply chains back in the not-so- distant past. (This morning alone—it’s 7:53am—I’ve heard that there is a pine nut shortage (an insect is eating them in Lebanon) and a sriracha shortage (droughts in Mexico.))

• It is impossible to keep my fingernails clean on the van trips. No matter how many times I wash my hands….

• When plotting my course on a road trip, I don’t always notice much other than “includes toll roads,” which, by the way were everywhere in the Northeast. $2.10? Every five miles or so? New York! Give me a break! But I digress. I have an itty-bitty problem with bridges and tunnels and I think map apps might want to warn those of us who don’t like them that “This route includes bleeping terrifyingly long tunnels.” (Iceland, I am looking at you here!) Mostly I am okay but lengthy examples of either are not my favorite. And there I was, paying a $14 toll to cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel, which by the way is a bridge tunnel bridge tunnel bridge, if anyone is keeping score.

• Proof that my memory is not as bad as I thought: I found the thumbtacks in the first place I looked. And it’s not an office drawer—way weirder than that. Ta-dum!

 

“Change is what we’re chemically designed to do.”

Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus

 

I keep looking at this blank little corner of the pnewsletter (in the pdf form) and thinking—do I just keep blathering on or leave it blank, or explain that I know it’s there but I really want to get this out so you get a slightly unattractive white space, or do I bump up the font size? Or I could add a photo. That’s it—an itty-bitty photo of my friend Ursula the snake on the dashboard. It’s small in hopes it is not hard on people who fear her.

 

PNewL PNewS 31.1: Travel, Travel, Everywhere

 PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 31 Issue 5 1                  “All the pnews that phits.”                  February March 2023

 

The Travel Schedule is Filling Up Again

I returned to Portugal for another visit to our town of Tavira and for more adventures with Bill and Denis. It was really nice. (A writing teacher told me not to use the word nice so let’s say it was comfortable and relaxing and fun and beautiful and everything a vacation should be. I just thought nice was shorter.) I understand why people return to places. As I thought about this trip, I wondered if this would be the last time. Maybe it will be, maybe it won’t, but for me, I don’t feel “done”—being comfortable, relaxing in a beautiful place and having fun seems “all good.”      

We had a convenient apartment on the river that runs through town that had balconies on two levels. Excellent people watching. The ferry to Ilha de Tavira was across the street…excellent Indian food was just below us, but not in an odor-invading-the-apartment kinda way. We went on exploratory drives and walks, wandered, ate well. The pace was just right. I could do it again.     

When I start planning a trip, there is usually at least one day, if not a few, that make me…not nervous, but aware of the challenges…and those days often involve public transportation. For some reason, I don’t trust it. This trip, that day was the one when I ventured off on my own via train from Tavira to Lisbon. The train was very pleasant though I am certain I didn’t sit in my assigned seat. I am still not sure there were assigned seats, but I know I was in the right Class—First! Half-price for old people!

First, I figured out which station was the closest to my Lisbon hotel—the train did not go to the truly closest one so I went for the second closest. I scoped out the route from the train station—58-minute walk vs 2-3 buses/metro with a roller bag and a daypack. I opted for the walk. I really like to see where people live. It was a beautiful day. 

The wander was great—first through a business section, then alongside parks with lots of kid noise and activity, then through residential, and down an alley between a hospital and a funeral parlor (interesting juxtaposition). Then I hit the hills which Lisbon is famous for. As my phone was starting to die and I was losing my map, I was heading straight up…on cobblestones, dragging a suitcase, after an almost three-mile hike across the city. When I got to the hotel, the woman at Reception asked where I came from and how I got there. I told her and said I walked. She said, “No! No! Too far!” The next morning, with sore arms and a kink in my back, I might have agreed but I did enjoy it. I am becoming more particular about museums and sights, and more interested in wandering, sitting, listening, observing, and, of course, supporting local artists/makers (aka shopping). 

The next adventure included the van and the knucklehead dog. Laurie had a few days window in her grueling social schedule in Key West—she had a spare bed and they allowed dogs. I could get there—it was only a 16-hour drive! I’m in. With a dog, the driving guesstimate needs some adjusting. It was more like 18 hours or maybe more. We left town on the Friday of President’s Day weekend—February in Florida. Remember what that was like? Yeah, I kinda forgot. It was also the weekend of the Daytona 500. Hotels were booked…solid. Super 8, somewhere along I-95 was charging $200+ plus a dog fee. We opted for sleeping in a rest area which was remarkably civilized with nighttime security…and almost full when we arrived at 9:30pm. (Before you gasp too deeply, I was in the van. We were much better equipped than most!)

Key West. What to say? It’s a unique experience. So many people and lots of alcohol with a few surprising reprieves. We hung out and at each meal, planned our next destination for eating. It was a good visit, with the exception of Buster’s need to go out at 5am. I realized after a couple days that he was really hungry after our lengthy walks around town. When I fed him, he let me go back to bed. (It was not all bad—being out on Duval Street at 5am is a peaceful perspective.)

On the way home, we stopped to see Ann and Lynne on the West Coast of the state. More good visits with old friends, except for Buster’s run for freedom…again at 5am. Fortunately, Lynne found him trapped in the backyard of a neighbor and we were on the road again.

 

Things I am Learning & Miscellaneous Observations 

• My life would be far less interesting without Libby, the digital online library connector. When I turned my phone off the other day and turned it back on, I was told that the data from Libby had been erased. I was about to drive home. I didn’t have time to look at it. As I drove home for 30 minutes in silence, I wondered what the loss of my Libby data meant—it felt big. (First world problem) When I got home, I found it was not lost and it may have been a bad Wi-Fi connection. My whole shelf was still there. The books I had on loan were still there. It had lost where I was in the book I was listening to but I could work with that. Our digital lives are so fragile and yet feel so sturdy when they work.

• I was walking around the yard this afternoon thinking, I need to find someone to help tame this mess…not because I am too old to do it but because I am old enough to know I don’t want to do it. I thought that sounded pretty smart!

• A 40-year-old friend (what are they called? A shallow dive down a rabbit hole says Generation X) once told me that I didn't understand one of the popular movies in a series because I hadn't seen all the predecessors... I wondered if that was the case with "Everything Everywhere All at Once." I found it entertaining but… Best Picture? I’m obviously nobody’s target audience!

• I went to a play that was really interesting. It is called “Every Brilliant Thing” and it lasted about an hour. It's a one man show--the man tells his story, growing up the child of a suicidal mom. In reaction to that, he starts making a list of "Every Brilliant Thing" to remind his mother of all the things that are good in the world. #1 is Ice cream. He adds to it throughout his life. During the play, the other characters are people he drags up on stage from the audience--his favorite elementary school teacher, his dad, the old people he sat next to when he was at the hospital waiting to find out if his mom was okay. He would also yell out a number and people in the audience had been given papers with numbers on them and they’d call out whatever Brilliant Thing they’d been given. When he fell in love, the list was boosted to hundreds of thousands and by then it got to be a group think project—together they got it to 1,000,000. It was really charming despite being about a sad subject. Highly recommend if you ever get a chance.

• The Doctor’s assistant asked me if I’ve traveled internationally in the last five years and if yes, where? Are you kidding me? I need to prepare for questions like that. When was five years ago? Even with COVID, that’s hard to figure—I travel! The PA seemed really surprised.

• The first time I went to Portugal, I got a haircut and it was so much fun. She didn’t speak English, I didn’t speak Portuguese. We had the whole salon laughing. Recently, I decided I needed at least one more tattoo—a bracelet. When I was looking for the artist to do the bracelet, I started following folks on Instagram. It can be pretty obvious the sort that would be good at a delicate bracelet vs the ones that do very black goth-like scary faces with drool or anime or…full sleeves. I found a Tavira artist I liked and made an appointment with her but she wrote it down wrong and we never connected. Then I found one in Lisbon and bingo! She was really fun to talk to, did a fine job on the ink, and got me to the metro safely—we had a very entertaining afternoon and I saw a part of Lisbon I wouldn’t have gone to otherwise. 

• This trip was the first time my white hair or aging face inspired people to offer assistance. In one case, a woman grabbed my bag and pulled it across the gap. I was humiliated and grateful. I am now that person.

• In a related topic, I am coming to grips with the difference between how I see myself and how I look on my passport photo. I just had the picture taken and am already dreading looking at it for the next ten years.

• For several minutes on a beautiful afternoon in Lisbon, I sat in an outdoor café and did not hear any English. It was refreshing. Then a multi-cultural threesome sat down and it appeared that they had English in common. They each had different accents. It was nice, but I did have to listen to small talk that I could understand. It’s always something!

• Climbing the hills of Alfama in Lisbon, a not-so-young child said to his mother, “Carry me!” This is THE reason parents need to be young.

•   In January, I lost a(nother) dear friend to cancer. It sucks. Enough! Stephanie was one of those people I assumed would be around forever. We’d been college roommates, and survived a bunch of different experiences – 45+ years of experiences. I think of her all the time—things I’d ask her, things we need to talk about. I think of her husband and sons and grandchildren often. It all seems so wrong. Bon voyage, my friend. I hope you are now free of pain. You are missed.

• “Grocery list.” This was supposed to be a prompt to remind me of something I had thought was interesting at some point—something I wanted to tell you about. It is not ringing any bells. 

• During lunch with some favorite people, the conversation turned to tattoos. Tara described her daughter’s tattoos as “clip art.” I know what she means—multiple unrelated tattoos. I fear I’m getting there but not really. I’ll keep it in mind. 

• I was telling someone that I was driving some of our Afghani boys—from Track practice home and home to Soccer practice. That someone (one of my clever friends but I can’t remember which one. Ack) said—you’re a Soccer Mom. Indeed. 

• I hit a point yesterday when I was making some travel plans when it flipped from a tedious list of things to do to OMG I’m going on an adventure! I never know when that moment is coming. This trip, a return to Iceland, has felt challenging because of memories of driving in snow…in the southern half of the island. This time, I’m going to the northern half. I’ll be on major roads, but major roads are not as major as, for instance, here in Western North Carolina. Weather is an interesting component in this destination. While I was researching accommodations, I read a comment about a good meal just across the street and something clicked—I know about that restaurant--I've heard great things. I could stay across the street and eat good food! Yay. It’s the little things. I’m ready to go!

• I am not even going to tell you when I thought this issue would go out. Finally, here. It’s yours. 

 

"Forward, in all directions!" Flying Karamazov Brothers (According to Becky)

 

 

PNewL PNewS 30.4: Road Trip with Buster & Other Tales

    PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 Issue 4                     “All the pnews that phits.”                          December 2022                                                     

In Which Buster Learns About Cactus Prickers and How Much He Dislikes the Car

     I decided it was past time for a road trip so…let’s go camping!…in November!…on my way to a meeting in New Mexico! And as long as I’m going as far as Albuquerque, how about flying to San Francisco for a Girl’s Visit because I can fly direct? Made sense to me at the time. It actually worked pretty well…except for the quivering dog and the way the wind howls across Oklahoma in mid-November, and the cactus.

     I thought he’d get over it or get used to it or something, but no--Buster shook every time I loaded him into the van and for most of the time the van was in motion…for approximately 2700 miles. I finally realized letting him sit in my lap, he would fall asleep and stop shaking. It was only dangerous three times during those 2700 miles and fortunately he weighs less than 30 pounds.  

     I allowed an extra day driving out to ABQ because…what if Buster escapes and I have to spend time looking for him or he hates campgrounds and I need to acclimatize him to the road? I never thought I’d have to coo at him for hours at a time. “You’re going to be okay, you’re fine, you’re safe, we’re together.” 

     Coincidentally, Asheville and Albuquerque are both on I-40 which allows for a lengthy opportunity of boring—but frighteningly fast—driving so I decided to take an alternative route on the way that took us into Georgia and Tennessee and Alabama and Mississippi and back to Tennessee where we connected with I-40. It turned out to be a good plan—the roads are suprisingly good and, well, pretty. Rural south is…hmmm…rural and peaceful looking. I-40 isn’t all bad but those states in the middle of the country? There’s just no really great way to get across them. Suck it up and drive--don’t think about the sand through the hour glass. And in November? The wind is amazing and there isn’t much out there to block it. 

     We had good campground experiences for the most part. Buster loved campgrounds and we walked for miles up and down the various circles. One in northern Texas was named for a lake that is no longer there. No one else seemed surprised. I guess they read different reviews than I did (which included a lake). That place had great trails because Yamaha had partnered with them to put in dirt bike and/or ATV trails and it was off season. This is where the cactus prickers and just plain old hiding in the grass prickers started. It was a little herky jerky on walks, pulling things out of Buster’s paws, but it was okay. 

     We spent our last camping night on the edge of a small town in Oklahoma. It was lovely—at the town reservoir with water in it!—and a great sunset. On the other hand, they locked the bathrooms at 5pm. (Where’s the OMG emoji?) It seemed out of place that there were huge houses overlooking the campground and the reservoir. I think the couple in the trailer next to us did not like each other very much. And it was so cold and windy I kept thinking this must be what it’s like to be homeless. I was kind of miserable, but Buster was fine—we weren’t moving.

     Then we got to Albuquerque, parked in Wendy and Joel’s driveway (They were in California!). I got to talk to Wendy a bit on the phone which was nice. We got to walk around their neighborhood which was also nice until Buster wandered into a front yard and came out with lots of fine long prickers sticking out of his side. He didn’t like it much and isn’t too smart so this happened a few more times.

     Then I went to Northern California to see some of my nearest and dearest and we had a really good visit and Buster went to Puppy Camp which was depressing and I tried not to think about it. And the meeting happened at a very pretty place and was a wonderful reunion of a lot of people I hadn’t seen in years, and then I got Buster and threw him in the van and instead of taking five days, we got home in three!

      So I guess Buster isn’t going to take to being in the car, I guess some dogs just don’t but it’s not like he gets a pass, we’re just going to have learn to put up with each other’s shortcomings. Happens in the best of relationships.

                                    

                                Things I am Learning & Miscellaneous Observations 

                                    (of One with a Phenomenal Amount of Privilege) 

• Sometimes I understand why people become criminals —being a good law-abiding person doesn’t always get me anywhere. I do not hear from my credit union very often but when they call, I feel like I have done something very bad. “You deposited a check unlike any you have deposited before—we’re putting a hold on it!” So there! And how dare I get a check to Peggy and not Margaret! I would like to suggest they look at the customer’s history before they start accusing folks of depositing odd checks in odd amounts with odd names like it’s a very very very bad thing—I’m a pretty reliable loyal customer with a stellar record. So there!

• Around the first of the month, I googled the price of an ink cartridge on the Staples website. As of the 5^th, I have gotten EIGHT “reminders” that there is still something that could be mine if I just paid for it. What a unique concept. Hot tip: when I went to the Staples store, I noticed the in-store price for the ink was $3 more (may have been $4) than online. I said to the cashier, what’s up? She said I don’t know but we have the policy of matching any lower price even our own. Cool.

• Dear Washing Machine: I would like to thank you for your years of service. But I would like to quibble with the way you tell time. 28 minute quick wash is NOT 28 minutes. I KNOW that, but I forget a lot. I wish one of us could remember.

• Dear Frontier: I still really really really don’t like you (I’m trying not to say hate.), and if I had a choice, I would leave you forever. Have a nice day. 

(Ironically, some big grant to provide internet services to rural areas was given to Frontier. I may be stuck. Sigh.) 

• There are a bunch of free movies available on my “smart” TV. They are consistently… lightweight and, well, not very good. A mother just told her kid that she would never be alone if she had this snow globe. SERIOUSLY??? Who writes this stuff? I am going to watch an episode of The Sopranos. I never watched it before. I know I’m the only one in history. The writing is a lot better. 

• I go through cycles—ones when I can’t find things I use a lot followed, unexpectedly, by one where everything surfaces. I’m in the latter right now and it is so refreshing.

• Buster, the dog, is a hunter. I have to accept that. It’s not my favorite part of him but I don’t know what else to do. He got a couple voles last week. I was impressed as he is not always successful. With the bird feeders back up, he’s keeping an eye on the squirrels that clean up the seed off the grass. He stalks them. He got close once but…sorry, pal…there’s no way.

• Speaking of voles/moles, my neighborhood is overrun. My yard is soft and mushy with tunnels everywhere. Same in the fields across the road. When we had the freezing temperatures around Christmas, the tunnels became ankle bending and trip hazards. It sounds weird but walking, like I do, over the same terrain every day, it’s a wonder when the ground I walk on changes so dramatically.

• I don’t see items on a website that are in a box specifically for readers to notice. My eyes go straight over it. Put DONATE or LOGIN in the upper right-hand corner in plain text and I am there. Put it in a red box? I do not even see it. I have started training my brain to look for the obvious and it has been hard.

• After a burst of cleaning-out-files energy, I have bags of paper to shred. Apparently, December is not a popular month for shredding so here they sit.

• I have driven in each of the 50 states, so while I was on this most recent road trip, I started to add up the number of states I have slept in. I am still working on it as there are a couple I need to think on more. For instance, I know I have slept in one if not both of the Dakotas but I need to look at a map. And West Virginia* and Maryland both seem like good candidates but I can’t figure out when. On this trip, I added Oklahoma and Alabama, though I may have slept in Alabama coming back from New Orleans but it was dark and it was a funky motel and it could have been Georgia. Too much information? I am at a solid 42 with four three in question and four I need to aim for. *I just remembered when I slept in West Virginia!!

• I headed into Christmas Day with few demands on myself. I wanted to make two dishes for a good meal, both Asian, one soup, one noodle. And I wanted to cut a steek into a sweater I started in February in the “Bang out a Sweater in a Month” challenge which I did not finish in a month and put away until I made it the centerpiece of my Christmas Day plan. It is now dark and Buster is snoring and I have obviously failed miserably at all of them. The ingredients are all where they were yesterday and the sweater is in a bag at my feet. I actually want to finish the sleeves before I steek and I was obviously misinformed (by me) as to where I was in the pattern. My goal is to now finish the sweater before the year ends or perhaps on 1/1 so I can list it in my 2023 Challenge. (Oddly, I like knitting challenges.)

     I did eat today, though, looking back, I am not sure what it was. You know: breakfast, lunch, dinner, like every day. I finished cooking bagels I started the night before—I added buckwheat flour which may have been a mistake but not a big one. I made a NY Times Cooking recipe that involved puff pastry and almonds and cranberries. I made chicken stock and started the yogurt. Three dog walks. Finished my Joe Pickett #21 audiobook. It was a productive day, just not the one I had planned. That’s the nice part of having my own Christmas Day.

 

Things to be Thankful For & NY Resolutions

During the pandemic I kinda dropped this tradition, partly because of space and partly because, well, it was the pandemic and a lot of things changed. I just looked at the last time I did it and it’s all the same dang stuff on the Resolution side so I’ll skip that and try to resolve something…

Things I am Thankful For

• Roger the dog for 3/4 of the year and leaving the legacy of being such a good teacher for Buster who has become a pretty good friend despite being a rascal, too

• Friends and family

• The interesting way people kinda wander in and out of my life—and that they wander back

• Between the holidays, I kept thinking about the year and feeling really grateful. The work and play and travel and the new people who are becoming friends, especially in the creative world. It all feels a little bit remarkable. Somehow I thought as a kid you just coast after a certain age. Hell no!

Happy New Year! Here’s to you for getting this far!

PNewL PNewS 30.3: I Could Do That

                                                        PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 Issue 3                         “All the pnews that phits.”                          Sept/Oct 2022

 

I Could Do That

 

     I realized recently that when I say, “I could do that,” I wind up doing a lot of interesting things. It took me all this time to actually hear myself say it…and know…here we go again.

     In the early stages of “coming out of Covid,” Judi said it would be nice to restart a much-loved event in the crafty world of Asheville—the Anything Fiber Sale—if only we had someone to lead it. As she said it, I thought, I could do that and then I thought, I wonder if I said that out loud, and lo and behold, I had. What followed was the coming together of a wonderful team of people who did what they said they were going to do and made it all come together. We organized and advertised and sorted and emailed and Score! A successful event—a garage sale for fiber nerds—wrapped up with 40+ happy vendors and hundreds of happy shoppers. A good time was had by all.

     Back in the early ‘90s, I discovered travel. I went to Australia by myself which turned out to be a remarkably good thing to do. Next, I thought I would like to take a cooking class at the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok. (I read about it in Gourmet… remember magazines? They were fun.) As a 97% pure white person, I thought I really should do the Grand Tour of Europe that I had never done and perhaps I could tie them together with a few months in between and the Round the World Tour was born, because…all together now…I could do that. (I remember Steve asking me why I was going and one of my answers was…because I can.)

     Plenty of more travel ensued and each time it just seemed do-able so I went. Remember when I flew 50 flights on United to get two free Business Class tickets anywhere in the world? Took me 2 ½ days to get to my parent’s house for Christmas and the same to get home. That was a hoot. 

     When I left California and took a year driving around to try to figure out where to live next, I did the Housesitting Tour (It wasn’t called that but I can’t remember right now what I called it…the Domestic Tour?) because I had a job that was mobile and I had a laptop and a cellphone. Seemed like yes, I could do that.   

     I am finding as I get older, I need to be a teeny bit more discerning. I could do it but is it really what I want to do? I know when I told Bill I would move to Portugal with him, I back peddled but it looks like he did too. There’s still time.

 

Roger Waters Newell 2008-2022

     Roger died peacefully in the presence of a few of his loved ones. It was time—he was ready and it was a nice day. He ate his last meal voraciously as always, and finished it off with a biscuit. The hole was dug, the landing was softened by some leftover wool and Roger the Dodger was off on his next adventure. I will miss him always.

     Buster has not expressed any looking-for-Roger-type behavior. He has been sticking closer to home (’course it was raining a lot) and last night when I went to a fly tying (!) class at Eluvium (WVL brewery) for an hour, he ate the pocket of my jacket...which Bear had eaten before him. (I am grateful that neither dog damaged the outside of the jacket so it lives on. No harm, no foul.) In retrospect, Buster does seem a little bit more needy and worried but we are both settling into the new normal. Off we all go.

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

 

• Several months ago, I read an article titled Your Pillow is Grosser than you Think…or something like that. I gave my pillows some thought and I am not going to go into the details—it’s embarrassing—but they have all been replaced. I highly recommend it. The article said to replace them every two years which I will never do, but maybe every decade or so…

• The postcards I sent from Iceland arrived four months after sending. Good to know.

• There are spaces between the planks on my front porch. I constantly drop knitting markers between them—today, I almost dropped a large sewing needle. One day soon, I need to go rescue whatever is down there.

• I am not good with people or animals at the end of life. It’s so frustrating and the love/annoyance bouncing back and forth is so confusing and tiring and sad. And it’s smelly and disruptive and time-consuming. And then it’s over and I can’t go back…ever. There is no do-over, there is no “Hey wait I have to tell you something…” And there are some niggling bad feelings about not doing enough. Gotta get back to the love part.

• I went on an evening raid to get leftover political signs for the structure of signs for an event I am working on. The election was 10 days ago. Leftover signs are free for the picking, in my humble opinion. As long as I was out, I stopped at the liquor store. As I was leaving, I noticed a really handsome car—it was a Subaru which,…well, this is a Subaru town, so I’ve had a hankering for one. As the apparent owner walked out, I asked, Do you like this car? And he said YES! And lo and behold, he worked for Subaru. Eventually, I said, I like Subaru but when are you going to get a hybrid and he said SOON (and in partnership with Toyota which is what I am driving). He gave me his card. Ha. [I later learned that Asheville was going to get one hybrid and then it would be a matter of ordering it and waiting. I went on the Subaru website to see if they had one on the lot—no—and saw what they did have. All but one car was around $40k. This is not an impulse purchase!]

So I am driving home looking for signs and they were all picked up. (I missed one at a major intersection.) As I was getting out towards my house, I saw one and made a sudden turn, put the car into park and as I opened the door, Buster took off. This is not a quiet country road. People are going 50 mph at the minimum. Buster is going up the hill on this side of the road then crossing to the other with cars honking and slowing down and yelling and I am a wreck. He heads towards a house that has always made me nervous, plus they have chickens. I am sure they are very nice people but then they might shoot me...or him. It’s that kind of place. Buster will not come; I do not feel safe. I go home.

      As I drive in the driveway, the phone rings. A very heavily (Southern) accented voice says, We have your dog. I ask them where they are—I tell them where I am. I drive to them waiting at a stop sign a couple roads away. It is a mom and an adult son who is cuddling Buster. Buster is very pleased with…everything. I get the dog and give the mom a wad of bills (I’ve always wanted to say “a wad of bills.” It was more likely a tidy pile.) and apologize profusely. Disaster averted again. I have since found Buster will not come to me because he knows the game is over, but he will come to everyone else.

• It feels naïve to say but I am pleasantly surprised by how much I have been learning lately. Things just keep trying to get into my brain of very few available memory cells. I am hopeful that I can retain some of it.

• I spend a fair amount of time packing for a trip. Driving to the airport, I realized I could happily travel with only knitting, my computer, ID, a mask and a credit card. (Oh, and a toothbrush + change of clothes.)

• We were talking about travel and how it isn’t as much fun as it once was. Marnie said she was glad that she would never have to go to an airport again except to pick up and drop off friends. It’s one of those comments that has stayed with me. I get it. I’ve had some really annoying experiences at airports and on airplanes, and the frequency seems to be increasing. For the most part, I remember the really bad ones (spending the night in the Charlotte airport, three hours from home, because they were out of hotels and it was already really late) but the minor delays and people being goofballs blur over time. I am not ready to give up on travel quite yet despite the effects my selfishness is having on the environment. I have noticed that I am honing in on places that seem Important for me to visit plus Portugal and Angel Island and...I will give this more thought.

• I am about to head home from Missoula after a wonderful visit with family in a beautiful place. I met my great nephew before he turned one. He is precious and adorable and charming. Isn't it great to be able to leave him when he's fussy? Thanks for sharing your son, and menagerie, and home, Bowen and Hayley. Thanks to Mike and Martha and Grover for the hospitality. And thanks to Peggy and Suzy and Betsy for visits with old (long time, I mean!) friends. I'm sure I missed someone...sorry.  

• Based on some random schedule I created for the PNewS, I am late getting this out. By more than a month. Silly me. Once again, I have several excuses but the bottom line is life and I got in the way of sitting down and organizing my thoughts. Writing this has become part of my routine. I always know things are out of whack when I don’t get to this. So here I am—out of whack or perhaps getting back into whack. I have made a successful trip to meet Sterling, and that has helped. I am going to stop before the end of the page…because I can.  

PNewL PNewS 30.2: Damsels and Gardening and Iceland oh my!

 PNewL PNewS

Volume 30 Issue 2           “All the pnews that phits.”              May 2022, for a few more hours

 

A Distressed Damsel

     It is not easy to confess but I have been known to pull the damsel in distress card. I am not proud of it. I am not proud of it because I wish I had learned enough along the way to be self-sufficient always but, sheesh, just writing that sounds silly. I s’pose I should say I wish I had learned more about how to fix and do and …and I wish I handled the situations better.

     One of my early distressed damsel opportunities came when I was getting ready to leave the country. I was living in Northern California and I was having a major (to me) add on/remodel. The guy had taken his sweet time starting the project and then during it. My neighbor didn’t help by plying them with day old pastries from Safeway, which led to a rat problem in the basement but that’s a whole other story. At the last moment, right before he was finishing and before I was leaving, the hot water heater stopped working. He came to work to wrap things up. I said, you need to fix this. He looked at me quizzically. I didn’t have a choice so I was not giving him one. I went to Yardbirds and got a new hot water heater and he installed it. I suspect there should have been a permit or something but it was done and I was too. I won’t list the other instances that are less memorable but I’ve definitely pulled the card a few times and it doesn’t feel any better the more I do it. And I suspect old age will open up lots more opportunities.

     Not too long ago, I was faced with getting my house reroofed. I hired the roofer who replaced the Doublewide’s roof. He’s a nice local guy who’s fast, walks around the yard afterwards with a magnet to get the nails, and likes to fish. Attention to detail. Before that could happen, I had to have the solar panel removed. The roofer doesn’t want anything to do with them things. This sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole. 

     The people who installed my solar panel no longer service hot water solar panels. They recommended a guy who once worked for them and was filling this niche. I told him what I needed and he said it’s going to be (Insert absurd amount or money here) to take it down and (insert an even larger absurd amount of money here) to put it back up…if it’s really working. He never came by—he never looked at the photo I sent of the situation. He knew I was stuck. 

      I asked a neighbor friend if he could recommend someone and he did. Communication with this guy was not good from the start but I was kinda…stuck—he obviously didn’t read my emails very carefully and when his plumber called he said he was coming to look at the hot water heater that needed to be replaced. I said I need a solar panel removed. We were both confused. After three visits which did not result in a removed solar panel, I was getting worried but by this late date, I was really stuck. On Saturday morning before the roofer arrived on Monday, I caught him backing out of the driveway. “I have bad news.” I went seriously ballistic. I said many bleep-able words at very high volume. He said it wasn’t his fault. This guy looked like a kicked puppy but frankly, that was not my problem—MY problem was getting the solar panel down by 7:30am on Monday. I spent the afternoon watching YouTube videos. I was very close to thinking I could just kick the solar panel down off the roof but did worry about the mess.

     I called the aforementioned neighbor and I explained that I had no intention of having the solar panel returned to the roof, I just wanted the panel down and the kid out of my life. And I whined…a lot. And the neighbor, bless his heart, helped get it done. 

     It hurts that I no longer have a solar panel—I feel like I am not being “consistent with my values,” but sheesh, that was ridiculous. (According to the YouTube videos, I had broken even on the panel and so I would be starting over again.) I have a panel and assorted hardware related to it if anyone wants them. 

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• There is an acronym in the yarn world (and perhaps other worlds): SABLE. Stash Accumulated Beyond Life Expectancy. I have that in yarn, fabric and books. Recently I had this moment of reflection when I looked around at all the horizontal surfaces covered in books and thought, realistically, which of these am I never going to get to? I only pulled six books, and have since mailed some away after reading them so the piles are shrinking. I have a whole stack that were going to go last time I did this and then I looked at reviews and they all got good ones so I held on. That doesn’t mean I am going to read them. They are in a grey area. The yarn and fabric need some attention…one day soon…

• I think Buster’s life would be complete if squirrels couldn’t climb trees.

• I went to a new dentist. It was such a positive experience. The people—front desk, hygienist, and dentist—were all friendly and positive in a not creepy way. They said many nice things and were encouraging and it all felt, dare I say, sincere. I came away feeling differently than other dentists I have been to in a long time. I had the World’s Best Dentist for years plus she is a friend. I got spoiled. 

     In the last several years, I have gone through three different dentists. I felt like I had people look at me with dollar signs in their eyes—the first discussion before I was treated was how to get deals and discounts. If I paid for an annual package, it would mean a huge savings. If I paid by check or cash, there was another discount. I felt like the purpose of getting my teeth cleaned was to give them an opportunity to find expensive damage. (“Look at that spot—looks worrisome, doesn’t it?”) The people were plenty friendly but the bottom line seemed more important. One said he hoped he never had to deal with my front teeth (they have crowns from before they were called crowns), and before that I had to sit down with the wife/office manager to basically prove that I could afford to pay my bills. This time, I wrote my check and walked out with my healthy gums (“that are a foundation for good solid dental work”) and felt like a million bucks. 

• What a joy it is to get the Medicare folder off the dining room table! And the tax file should follow it shortly. 

• I paid $3.48/gallon for gas today. I almost felt like I was cheating or something. (This was a while ago but it was a huge discount at the time. Recently the out of gas light came on when I was driving on back roads and I pulled in to a little station I knew would be even more expensive than the stations on the main roads. I just wanted enough to get me to those main roads. Not thinking about where we are in gas pricing, I gave them $10. As I pumped my 2.1 gallons, I laughed out loud. They must’ve thought I was pathetic.

• I came across an article about croutons. The theory is that anything crunchy is a crouton--including Cheetos and potato chips. I decided not to read the article because that headline was all the information I needed. (I did go back and read the article and she also included things like Japanese rice crackers, day old sushi rice, and a few other things. Enough said.)

• When I search for a word on my computer, I often get a lot of hits. I just searched for “dainty.” One hit this time—the sock pattern I was looking for. Apparently “dainty” is not a key word in my vocab.

• When I was in Iceland, I bought four postcards, four stamps and yarn, and the postcards and stamps cost more than the yarn!

 

Grrrrrrrdening

Here we go again—the growing season hath begun.

·       Yesterday I thought, I wonder what that is, and yanked. Today, leaves have sprouted and yup, poison ivy.

·       My dear friend Ray used to say you can’t stick a knitting needle in the dirt around here without hitting a rock, and it’s true. And I never know how big the rock is going to be. Sometimes it’s baseball size or like a silver dollar and sometimes it’s couch-size. I started working on what I guessed was a Roger-sized rock and I thought, I’m planting groundcover…Back it up buttercup, we do not need to go there. I didn’t. The rock is covered and the groundcover is in the ground. They will have to learn to co-exist.

·       I used raised bed dirt mixed in with the soil because I had it. Are the dirt police going to come around and say, “Missy, you have raised bed dirt ON THE GROUND. Here’s your citation.”? Yeah, probably not. 

 

              Hope is a discipline and we have to practice it every single day.  Mariame Kaba

Where’s Reverse? or ‘Round Iceland with a Car Full of Wool

     I turned 65 so I thought I should do something nice for myself. I went to Iceland…for a writer’s retreat and because I’ve never been there and I have heard such nice things. (One of my teachers warned against using the word “nice.”) The writer’s retreat was very good. The teachers were friendly and funny and generous. One of the women who founded it (the Iceland Writer’s Retreat) is the First Lady of Iceland so she has some pretty good connections, plus she was funny and friendly and generous. It was an all-around good experience and I think I will go back (Partly because I didn’t see puffins or eat at the tomato restaurant or see half the country and there will be more and different workshops). All of the classes were unique in style and subject and helpful…except the one by the woman who taught the wrong class, and that might have been helpful if I hadn’t spent half the class wondering what she was talking about and why.

     Turned out two people I knew were there —one had attended before (Lenore) and the other (Krista) had been encouraged to come, like me, by a third person (Cathy) who was supposed to be there but wasn’t. It was fun getting to know them better and having familiar faces in the crowd. A good time was had by all, though we missed Cathy mightily.

     With the workshops wrapping up mid-day on Sunday, I bid a fond farewell to my people and got a rental car. I had requested an automatic itty-bitty car. I got a larger manual car. I could not find reverse—a lot has changed in a manual car since my 1992 Toyota truck was built. It was nerve wracking—I couldn’t stop anywhere that I would have to back out of. Turns out there was a ring around the stick-shift that had to be pulled up to go in reverse. There was an R in the diagram on the top of the stick, but it did not mention lifting the ring. 

     And so, a new adventure began. I headed to what I call the Snagglepuss Peninsula, mostly because I had trouble pronouncing Snaefellsnes. I had a hard time pronouncing many words but I did practice as I toodled along. Thankfully English is spoken by most people and Google Maps works well. 

     I spent a day wandering around this lovely peninsula that is poking out into a ferocious body of water that is part of the North Atlantic. There is a National Park, complete with a large volcano, that are both called Snæfellsjökull (and no, I can’t pronounce that one). There are small towns that made me wonder why people lived there (fishing?). There were large churches in the middle of nowhere, and small pieces of art along the side of the road. It was delightful. 

     At one point, I stopped in the middle of the road to take a picture because there are no shoulders and very few cars and I had to hold on to the door so it didn’t blow away. Seriously. The whole country feels a bit hammered by the elements, in a good way. The land is doing its best to survive and thrive in harsh environs. When I was looking for rental cars, I read one can get wind insurance, and sand and ash insurance for damage from flying bits of either. No insurance covers windshields, tires or the underside of cars—all are too vulnerable. There is wildness there. 

     The morning I was leaving Stykkisholmur (referred to as Stykkish or Stykk), I woke up to an unexpected snowfall. I had a mountain pass to cross on my way back to Reykjavik (all roads seemed to go there). I was…concerned. The innkeeper said, “It will be bad but it will be brief.” Then she pulled out the map and showed me where it would be bad which, oddly, didn’t include the pass. It was a little daunting but soon after leaving town, I passed a snowplow and it had obviously been over the mountain. 

      In Reykjavik, I picked up Lenore who needed a ride to the Blue Lagoon, and a roommate for her stay there and a ride to the airport. I could do and be all of those things. It was quite a luxurious place surrounded by the famous milky blue thermal pools. We had quite the pampering and relaxing time. I don’t think I need to do it again, but there’s a new check on the Bucket List.

     After dropping Lenore, I headed east towards the Golden Circle, which includes the Greatest Hits of Iceland and while gorgeous and remarkable, the crowds, even in early May in a country that considers its “Season” to be June July and August, were noticeably larger than over on Snagglepuss. 

     The vistas are vast. When the country isn’t mountainous, it’s flat as a pancake and there are no trees so the views go on for days. The beaches are volcanic black sand, and the coastline is well worn. And by the way, the food is surprisingly fresh and delicious in even the most far-flung town. I didn’t eat anything terribly exotic (another reason to return), but the fish was fabulous…everywhere. It is also crazy expensive—everything is. Lenore suggested I pretend it is Monopoly money and deal with it when I get home. Advice taken.

     One of my favorite stops was two+ hours beyond my accommodations (which reminded me of The Shining on first glance but wound up being a charming stay). I was driving along the coast up against the cliffs, surprised by waterfalls coming out of every crack, followed by wiggly curvy steep turns and twists then long runs of flat, with views of the ocean and the contorted rock formations formed by the water and then boom! Icebergs! I knew it was coming –that’s why I was there—but it was such a pleasant surprise. The icebergs are created when the glacier hits the water. They bob around in what turns out to be the deepest lake in Iceland connected to the shortest river (1/4 mile or less?) that takes the icebergs to the sea. Sometimes it’s fast, sometimes the iceberg gets caught in an eddy and hangs around. Sometimes they hang around long enough to get dirty and melt a little. It’s always changing and captivating.

     I’m coming to the end of the page so I am going to have to wrap things up—I’ve already gone way over my usual allotment. I saw lovely waterfalls and snowy peaks and the place where the European and American plates come together! All good and worth another look. 

     My last night, I was told that from the hotel, it was a straight shot into Reykjavik where I had to go to get a Covid test…over a mountain. Well, it had been snowing and it was cold…but I don’t have a lot of room left to tell you that story. I made it, even had time for a visit to the world’s only Phallological Museum but that will have to wait for another PNewS.

 

P.S. Bills are paid and the suitcase is stowed. Now all I have to do is wait for the speeding tickets to come in. Speed limit is 55mph and I am known to push it a little and one thing I was told was “Never Speed.” To be continued

 

“The whole system of our lives works because we are not all nuts on the same day.” Anne Lamott